Darcy Winx Novels & Stories

Leaves. I close my swollen eyes. Tomorrow. Pyre. Flames. End. I let my head fall forward. The chains creak. In the silence of my deaf world, one last thought surfaces—clear, quiet, final: *If there’s anything after… find me, Victoria.* *I’ll wait.* The fire crackles. The chains hold. And Raven Winterstar—nine years old, scion of death, girlfriend of a vampire princess—waits for the dawn that will burn her away.

I frowned as I felt the heaviness settle in my chest, knowing that it was somewhat familiar. Xavier’s head snapped toward the doorway at the same time mine did. The scent hit first: cool night air, something faintly metallic, and the wild tang of wolf magic, old, deep, and unmistakably powerful. She was already inside. Lisa D’Amaris leaned against the frame of the door like she’d been there all along, her posture casual, her legs crossed neatly at the ankle. Her beauty was sharp, refined, nothing like Annalise’s fiery elegance or Lorenzo’s brooding dominance. This one was colder. Collected. Her eyes held that peculiar stillness that comes from knowing far too much.

“You’re not making sense.” Jack leaned forward, voice low, measured, the way a man tells a secret he shouldn’t. “You’d better get the picture straight. The man behind this city’s power games is Bill Darcy. Big wallet. Bigger ego. He intends to marry Sandra Harris, a nightclub singer with more enemies than fans. Darcy wants her, and when Darcy wants something, the world makes way or gets trampled.” He paused to light another cigarette, letting the words sink in. Smoke drifted between them like a curtain.